For those of you who don't know, while in Oxford, I live in a house with about 40 other people and we take turns cooking meals for groups of 12-8 of us at a time. Well... tonight was my night to cook for 13 people. This was my moment; make it or break it.
Can I just say that I am not a world class chef by any stretch of the imagination? I'm really good at things like toast, quesadillas, and stir fry. Nothing too complicated. You cook it till it looks done, and call it a day. Upon coming to Oxford and being a part of this cooking group thing, I've somehow managed to give the impression that I am something of a cook/amazing person in the kitchen. Now, I have a sister and a mother, both of whom are fabulous cooks, maker of delicious things, and teasers of me because I don't cook as often as they do. Of the three of us, I'm the one who makes the best top ramen and salad. Oh yes, I can cut up a mean head of lettuce, let me tell you.
For the first time Ever, I have prepared, made and eaten a pot of soup made completely independent of outside help. Yes, my mother and I talked on Skype about howo to make it, but when it came down to it, I was the one who put all the stuff together, cooked everything, and served it. Oh yes, I served soup to 10 people and no one's gotten ill, or anything. It tasted good, it looked pretty great, and I made it.
Ok, I'm done with my bragging session, but I thought someone should know about this amazing event and the significance therein. I'm pretty excited. But now, I must go write a paper on Dramatic Monologue in Tennyson and Browning's poetry.
Good night, and good luck.
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